thisismydisease.com

i  want everyone who has never had a horrible disease or cancer to undertake chemo. see how YOU feel watching every moment of your life - and being sleepy - and being sick. and i hope you ENJOY waking up at 2:00 am and staying that way for 10 - 12 hours, exhausted but unable to sleep. and i hope you LIKE eating every 2 - 3 days.

i want you to hurt like i do because that’s the only way you’re going to learn. or not. maybe you’re so self-obsessed that nothing can hurt you, and you think you’re immune to everything that is less than how you see it to be: perfect in your mind.

I want you to hurt like i do.

i want you to hurt.

and facebook people (i hate “peeps”), notice how the beginning of this blog post resembles a facebook post? well it’s because there is not one piece of software or ria that i can find that will handle it all. soon…but not now.

i’m gonna go snuggle littler dog.

that’s the number of hours i worked yesterday, despite the fact some a-hole mba-type director dickweed made the comment that because i don’t capitalise i don’t pay attention to detail. can a-hole mba-type director dickweed say “lawsuit”? (probably not - i don’t think they teach words with that many syllables in the south until one gets to phd-level studies.) anyway…

i like the project, but have to admit i’m getting more than ticked off with being given all the crap work nobody else wants to do. in the 19 months i’ve been with the company i’ve gotten to work on only one good project - and although it was approved, verbally, to move forward the boss has put it on the back burner so he can deal with all the junk these mba-types spit everywhere. oh well, if they’re comfortable violating the company’s mission and not being innovate good for them. meanwhile…

i’m going to enjoy the night tonight. i put in ten additional hours on the project today - so i’m going to take some me time, enjoy a few hours doing what i want to do, not bother to set the alarm for  the morning and have a drink or two. i’m having the first right now in fact. needs ice. other than that…

my landlady chose today to have the shed door broken down and replaced. today. almost a year after i moved in here. and a day i had phone meetings that required my full concentration. it’s hard to concentrate when some tools-yielding carpenter guy is pounding the crap out of a door. (i guess he didn’t think to just break the lock with a sledge hammer - then remove the door. whatever.) he brought with him a very nice german shepherd doggie though. i got to see him while he was pooping in my yard and sniffing at my patio door. we don’t talk about what he did to my garbage. other than that…

amber showed up for her bi-weekly visit. the yard folks didn’t show up for their appointment to pull out scrub trees, trim the bushes, etc. little dog is still little dog. and i’m still me.

so off i go to enjoy the 15 minutes left of the day. i might just get all wild and take some minutes from tomorrow and enjoy those as well. there’s no way the a-hole mba-type director dickweeds will be able to figure that one out.

the painkillers have worn off again - so my flattening and swollen and shedding feet feel like those nasty aliens are conducting an conscious autopsy on them. but that’s the least of it.

my. hands. ITCH!!!!!!! oh holy mother of god this is ridiculous. i scratch and flake and scratch and flake etc etc ad naseam but nothing changes except the level of pain and the amount of flakes. to hell with this i say! later today i’m going out to home depot to get one of these.

yeah i know…cannibal said i can’t use sandpaper on my skin due to the risk of cuts and infection. but mr. “medicate the symptoms” hasn’t been successful in coming up with a way to make this even remotely tolerable - so let his advice be damned. a little sanding followed by a bubbly handbath/footbath…what could possibly make things worse than they are?

yeah, i guess i could sand off too much skin and leave myself walking around leaving bloody handprints and footprints behind.

yeah, i guess i could rub that little finishing doohickie too hard on the skin between my toes and fingers and end up with brush burns that can’t heal properly due to the naturally sweaty environment.

yeah, i could drop the thing on the floor and have it run away and destroy the hardwoods, attack the dog and break the patio door.

and yeah, conceivable with chemo brain, i could drop it in the footbath and electrocute myself (because, of course, i’ll use it on myself right next to the fully bubbly footbath to keep the mess confined).

but hey, success doesn’t come without risk-taking.

time to take some risks.

i’m donning my battle gear. get out of my way.